Gemotions

David hated hospitals. The white walls, the fluorescent lights, the air of forced optimism – it all grated on his nerves. He felt a tightening in his chest, a familiar physical manifestation of his resistance. He wouldn't be here if he had a choice. He’d managed his condition for years, without help. Now, the new specialist, with his smug smile, wanted to re-evaluate.

He slumped in his chair, trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. He wanted to disappear. He wanted them to leave him alone.

A woman walked past, paused, and then returned, her eyes narrowed. "Are you… you're here for the same thing, aren't you?" she asked, her voice skeptical, almost accusatory.

David just looked at her. He didn't want any connections. He didn't need any help, and he certainly didn't need another person getting close to his business.

"It seems you have the wrong person," he said coldly.